tariki

After that welcome interlude, I find myself once more in McDonalds, white coffee in hand. A stopping point on my way to Oxfam for my four hour stint on the till. Hopefully very few customers this week and my reverie, listening to Bob Dylan and Marc Bolan, will not be rudely interupted. But as Rambling Syd Rumpo would say, I'm dipping once more into my tucker bag, digging out some old odes. Rambling Syd was played by the late Kenneth Williams, in the radio show "Round the Horne". Rambling Syd was an itinerant folk singer, whose songs were written by Barry Took and Marty Feldman, using Olde English words, which when placed appropriately, would be full of lurid innuendo. Such great old English ballads as "The Song of the Boggle Clencher" (who would "often clench his boggles for less than half a crown" and whose delight was "a shiney night (and a foggy night as well)" . Well, you get the idea. One of his greatest was the "Song of the Somerset Nog" and Syd explained how the nog was "half Suffolk Punch and half dachshund".A strange looking creature he added, "three hands high and eighteen foot long". "Not much to look at no doubt" Syd would say, "but they do say as how the rhubarb in those parts of the world was something mighty fine." But back to the poems, I tend to digress, and there are only so many. As the supermarkets say of their latest "unmissable" offer, "when they're gone, they're gone"! I was struck once when hearing an office colleague offer some sort of response in a situation. Being instinctively judgemental I saw "fault", a lack of sincerity, a grasping after "received truths" and saw no "heart". Anyway.... Convention speaks The heart is dead Only the remembered said. The mind revolves Within its files Choosing words And picking smiles To convey to watching eyes If the heart laughs or cries. But it does neither. It is dead. Only the remembered said. Maybe others here are familiar with The Blue Cliff Record, a collection of Koans. I have a book by Thomas Cleary, "Secrets of the Blue Cliff Record" and over the years I've managed to get to Case 64. Sadly, most of it remains secret to me....... There is another little book, by Terrence Keenan, which is an updated, "modern" version of the Blue Cliff Record, with an abstract art work alongside each "case". More my style. Pretty cheap as a download on Kindle which makes a pleasant change from a few other zen books I could mention. In the Introduction is a little verse by Joshu:- Remake what has gone by and work with what comes. If you don’t remake, you are stuck deeply somewhere. Which I think now can relate to the words of Yu-men, when asked what were the teachings of a whole lifetime. He answered:- "An appropriate statement". Anyway, I would recommend Terrence Keenan's little book, available from all good ebook stores..... No blame. Be kind. Love everything.

Hi there! It seemed like the Mary Celeste around here! Hope all is well with you. 🙂

Mental Health Day today, and mental health now much talked about in the UK, much less kept in the dark, complete with "stiff upper lips", "pull yourself together" and "man up" (or "woman up")and other such nonsense. One feature today was the "Three Men Walking", three (who'd have thought it.....😀) men who each lost a young daughter to suicide. Now they seek to raise awareness. The first "feature" of the day was the missile strikes on Kyiv, and then Mr Putin sitting safe at his desk, black suited, accusing the Ukraine of "terrorism". Instantly I get the feel of "Dr Stangelove" and other satirical movies, yet here is hard reality. "The world is too much with us". Yes, it is. But do not be "conformed" to it. Moving on, a trio of poems from yesteryear, all "christian" in a way. Making connections and disconnections, I have moved "east", and so I read them again, looking and wondering. The first is "Palm Sunday" which is deeply ambiguous. Its ambiguities still puzzle me. I was standing on some low ground Near the road to Bethany When suddenly the distant sound Of cheering came to me. I looked up, saw a distant crowd Where rocks and roadside met But what was causing cries so loud I could not see as yet. Within my heart a wonder flowed - A longing to draw near, Yet as I reached the winding road I found the way was clear. The cheering crowds had moved away, Left nothing to be found. Just dust upon the beaten clay And palm leaves scattered round. It could be seen as "buddhist", i.e. much ado about nothing......😊 The second..... Once shield and witness to a faith A platitude become A church in silence offers now No homage to the Son So solitary building Whatever be one's taste More suggestive of bazaars Than any saving grace Impossible to comprehend That stone of such reserve Once shook in exaltation As host to second birth That offers now but of itself No kingdoms to endow No longer with compulsion acts But as our saviour, Now I was experimenting with half rhymes, with a full rhyme at the end for emphasis. It was "inspired" (surely the wrong word!) by Philip Larkin's "Church Going", a fine poem well worth looking up. My third is called "Church Service". Now I will only enter a church for weddings or funerals (funerals more often these days) I will have a humanist service, with "Mr Tambourine Man" (Dylan) as the intro, and "Gracelands" (Paul Simon) as the outro. I'd love to be there to hear them again. Our breath like demons casted out Our noses pinched by frost and doubt We faithful wend our Narrow Way Betwixt the graveyard's clodded clay. Soon the cold stone church is reached Wherein the Crucified is preached Demeanours miserable as sin With solemn gait we enter in. Then, sought and found, a frozen pew We seat ourselves, the Chosen Few Beneath the stained glass windows glow Black-bibled all, row on row. Too soon the vicar comes (with style) Replete with oily, plastic smile And all resigned we hear him say:- "Welcome all, now let us pray" Heads all bend in pious prayer The God Man's words fly thick and fair (Some brethren muse upon Good News Others contemplate their shoes) Then heads are raised, the organ booms Throats are cleared, the first hymn looms Hymn-book pages softly rustle Through the flock a gentle bustle And then all sing of Love Eternal Voices torn and cracked, infernal All wondering at God's wondrous ways That turns such discord into praise. Watched by the Vicar's gimlet eye More hymns and prayers pass by and by Then to his pulpit, proud he goes, To spout his Sermon's sundry woes. It's "Woe to this" and "woe to that" And "woe to those who chit and chat" It's "woe to those who smile and sing" Woe to almost everything! But joy! yes joy! to those who mourn To those whose yokes are bravely borne. To everyone now graced by dread:- "You can all start living once you're dead" Then down he comes, another hymn Its words unyielding, stark and grim. But then at last! an end to woe! Those Holy Words "You now can go" We shuffle out into the aisle Shuffle up it, single file. Just one thing now to look out for The silver plate beside the door. We all approach it in a line Each fumbling for our smallest coin. The vicar's eyes speak loud and clear:- "Please, no Widow's Mites in here" And so we place a note instead And passed the vicar proudly tread And so on through the oak door where We breathe once more the Lords fresh air. That's all for now. No blame. Be kind. Love everything.

Moving on. I really don't like sundays, they just don't agree with me. I wake up with the anxiety at the highest levels. A bit of therapeutic baking and other household chores and such brings calm of a sort. Really, in some ways it's been all downhill since the UK's then PM Dave Cameron called an EU Referendum. His Party haemorrhaging votes to the UK Independence Party, he sought to put the matter to rest. Instead he let the cat out of the bag. As I say, all downhill from there. Musical chairs at what is called "the top" (for reasons unknown), with Dave, having so unexpectedly lost, giving way to Theresa May, then Boris Johnson and now Liz Truss, of whom Matthew Parris (a Tory journalist) has said:- "there is no more to Liz Truss than meets the eye". The UK has now reached the very bottom of the barrel in terms of what little talent pool it had in the first place. Now the Tories have morphed into the England Independence Party, with the absurd slogan of "Global Britain", which could act as a fine zen koan. Of course Covid had not helped, and alas our world is dysfunctional and even dystopian (without the "speculation" part - who needs speculation when it is in front of us?), with North Korean missiles let loose over Japan, wars here and there, jeans produced with ready made tears, people walking down the highstreet talking into their mobile phones, headphones stuck in ears (our "age of communication") All no doubt prophesied in Revelations if you have a rich enough imagination. The "End Timers" are having a field day. Well, I'm waffling again. Letting it all hang out. A poem... We had relatives down in a small village near the coast. We would walk our then young daughter around a park. Often we would see a mother and her teenage son walking across the grass, I think between the village shop and their home. A bit ungainly, the young lad was a downs child. He was always holding his mum's hand. We mentioned to our relatives once that we had not seen the couple for a while and were told that the mother had died and that the young boy could not really understand. He kept asking where his mum had gone. Anyway, at the time I wrote this.... he did not understand where his mum had gone his mind was childlike and fed upon small things and the living of day to day more than on what the religions say that death came through Adam eating the apple and suchlike - his mind just could not grapple with justifications for evil and such he could not be expected to worry much and never did - just smiled as he walked beside his mum and talked to her - because only she could understand the awkward shaking of his hand and everything he had to say and all he needed in each day O Christ, it hurts to dwell upon his simple question - where's mum gone Once I spent time at a sports club for the physically handicapped and when first there there were three downs youngsters. To begin with you see the obvious similarities of their features but in time they became what they were, unique individuals with their own names. It really is a blessing. The beauty of difference. A bit disjointed here, being interrupted by various things. "Krapp's Last Tape" again. Making connections, or not. To suffering, its cause, its solution. From the Buddhist texts, a guy called Kassapa questions the Buddha... "Is suffering caused by oneself? "Do not put it like that Kassapa" "Then is suffering caused by another? " "Do not put it like that Kassapa" "Then is suffering caused by oneself and another?" "Do not put it like that Kassapa" "Then is suffering neither caused by oneself nor another? " "Do not put it like that Kassapa" "Then there is no suffering?" "It is not a fact that there is no suffering: there is suffering, Kassapa""Then does Master Gotama (the Buddha) neither know nor see suffering?""It is not a fact that I neither know nor see suffering: I both know and see suffering, Kassapa" The conclusion is that we are being asked to "come and see" (for oneself) or in Pali "ehipassiko". The same sort of exchange can be found in the Buddhist texts for much else - life after death, the beginnings of the world, etc etc. All "views" , "conclusions", "answers" are renounced, as not being conducive to the "holy life", the path to deliverance, the "heartwood of the Dharma", which is said to be "unshakeable deliverance of mind". We must open to the reality of suffering (dukkha), not seek "answers" in any text, however venerated. No blame. Be kind. Love everything.

Back in McDonalds, with a straight white coffee. A bit downmarket from Costa's ( 😀) but the price is better in these tough times. I miss those barista's eyeing me up but a young lass crying out "Number 47! " has its upside if you use your imagination. As said, a few old poems. The next two can be dated. They came with the Falklands War, so early 1980's. Anyway, the first was just a short verse. I wrote this after watching the news, another plane landing at Brize Norton with returned servicemen. A tape would be put across to hold back the families, women and children. The soldiers would disembark and at some point the tape would be breached and the little kiddies would run forwards towards their dads. Soon after came another news item, this from Buenos Aires, a funeral cortege for young airmen killed in the conflict. Following the coffins were the mothers, faces torn with grief, wringing their hands. No words are adequate to capture the dualities of our world. "Realising" non-duality within duality is the journey, and can only be lived, not thought. At least as I see it. And the journey is home. But I wrote this short verse: the faces of grief are on the marchfar from where reunions bless(where sons and daughters are lifted highby arms returned to tenderness) Following the war, there was a "Victory Parade" arranged in London by our then Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. The so called Falklands Spirit of national unity was to be celebrated, even fueled. It was declared that there would be no room (at the inn) for any wheelchairs, the walking wounded. Now, such a decision would bring outrage, but then it was accepted with barely a whimper. Here is my poem, "Falkland's Victory Parade". Keep well to the back there boys, There's no votes to be won by you, It's only the able in body and mind We want in the public view. No wheelchairs now, no white sticks; I'm sorry - they must be banned, To preserve the new found unity That's spreading through our land. We need just the beat of marching feet That bursts the heart with pride; Even, perhaps, a prayer or two For the ones who fought and died. So please, keep well to the back boys, Let the healthy take your bow. We all enjoyed the battle - Don't go and spoil it now Keeping to the war theme, the Ukrainian conflict is never out of the news. We have been told by our grandchildren that a little Ukrainian girl has joined their school. Our grandaughter, 8, tells us that this little girl could only say "hi" in English when she arrived, but now could speak a lot more. We asked her if everyone chatted to her and were told "mainly the girls, not so much the boys." But anyway, a little light in the darkness. The current conflict introduces another poem, written in a deliberate boring monotone (so what is different here I hear some say....), called "Those Programmes Are Always the Same"... Those programmes are always the same; Those Current Affairs programmes are always the same. The editions that deal with some new war, Those programmes are always the same. First the historical background is given; How historically the conflict arose, How the crisis began - such information is given. Then the World Perspective is given; Everything is put into context. The conflict is put into focus. The Superpowers - all are placed in perspective. The relevant politicians are referred to; The words and attitudes of the relevant politicians are referred to; A relevant speech of a relevant politician is referred to. There is some in-depth analysis. Then some film is shown of the actual battle area; The areas actually touched by the conflict are shown. Where the bombs have fallen - some film is shown. Then come the women and children screaming. Then come the women and children screaming. Then come the women and children screaming. Then come the women and children screaming. Then various solutions to the crisis are discussed; Various proposals for resolving the conflict are discussed. The various experts discuss the various proposals. Those programmes are always the same. I remember once when the UK Red Arrows put on a display near to where we lived. The planes roared overhead and even though they were "friendly" the roar shook me and had a frightening aspect. I thought then, and think again now, what effect such a roar has on young children in any war zone, knowing that missiles of destruction can wipe away everything they know in an instance. I think of my own grandchildren. No blame. Be kind. Love everything.

Hello again. I was back a year or so ago. I tend to drift around - in more ways than one. I have given up Forums about five times ( 😀) but I really do find waffling on very therapeutic and though in many ways I'm simply talking to myself, the vague sense of an audience is needed. I have mental health issues, mainly anxiety, which hits in the morning and fades, hopefully, during the day. In fact one of my last sojourns was on a mental health forum. Some of the stories there, the personal struggles, made my own seem fairly minor, yet the overall "feeling" of the forum was one of acceptance and warmth, making me think of Leonard Cohen's words from "Anthem"... "there is a crack in everything that's how the light gets in" I can see, looking back, upon my last return, that I spoke of "Krapp's Last Tape", a play by Samuel Beckett. About a guy who records his thoughts or whatever every ten years or so and when listening back struggles with making a connection. What stays the same? What changes? Disconnection and continuity. Buddhist ideas of "rebirth". Once or twice now I have run a thread here and there posting some of my old poems. I recall posting a couple on here before, as and when some thread seemed to all them forth. Back in the day I often wrote poems, in my twenties and early thirties, but they dried up when I began to discover the "real stuff". Which is sad in a way. I think now that any attempt whatsoever at creativity will never be fruitless, however "poor" at another level. Anyway, this is all a preamble to running through a few of my old poems. Each time I seek the connections and discontinuities, ramble on about autobiographical tidbits that surrounded the writing of them. They are my own "tapes". The first are two that I see I have posted before, as mentioned above. I was reading "The Sleepwalkers" by Arthur Koestler, about "Man's changing vision of the Universe" (woman's too I assume) I was exposed to the so called "Copernican Revolution" (and all the subsequent revolutions) as our earth, our home, was displaced from the centre and set into orbit. Then Darwin - we were no special creation. Then Freud - just who was in charge? Enough there to create the angst of modern times and for many the desperate, yet forlorn, clinging to any "old time religion" that didn't seem totally absurd. Before Bacon (and ode to despair) Oh! I wish I'd been born before Bacon When the sun still moved in the sky, When hope was in more than a daydream And beauty in more than the eye. When the Great Chain of Being had God at the top And Old Nic down below in his lair, When people were burnt for love of their souls And not just because they were there. Back in those days before Auschwitz When there was still trust to betray, Before Symbol and Myth became Number And the Cross became DNA. Oh! I wish I'd been born before Bacon When Saints trod the Pilgrim's Path, When people still jumped at a bump in the night And not at a bump in a graph. When Crusades were fought for Truths believed And Faith was the Devils hammer, Nothingness only the clay God used, The Absurd a Bishop's stammer! When Man was seen as something more Than atoms swirling in air, Before the face of the Risen Christ Became the face of despair. Yes, I wish I'd been born before Bacon Though there's not much to choose in the end; But I might have had serfs and a castle And I might have had Christ as a friend For me the whole thing was light and satirical but it was actually read out once at a local prize giving evening and was read rather seriously, even pompously. Such is life. The second. We once lived next door to a couple who had a severely handicapped son, Georgie. One day as I left the house a lady was chatting to the mother and the little lad was in his pushchair. As I passed by the lady reached down and tousled his hair and said:- "He's a kittle angel." I don't know why but I felt anger at hwr words, as if the little lad was being betrayed in some way. Anyway, I wrote this:- see no wings on georgie else he would be bound set no seal upon him place no fences round see him not as what he could be what he should or what he would be see him as he is before you love the living truth, see georgie hope for guidance, hold no answers in the mornings when you wake him as he casts his eyes upon you your response can make or break him Since then I've spent a few days now and again at a Playground for Special Needs Children, where my daughter was supervisor. Once I asked her, about a particular child:- "What's wrong with that one" and she just said: - "You don't have to know what's wrong with them, you just treat them for the child that they are." I mentioned this to her once, saying it was something I had learnt from her. She told me that she had learnt it herself from the previous supervisor, a lady called Di. (I had met Di once, and have a memory of her once being struck over the head repeatedly by an irate child. Di just went down slowly under the blows (they were a bit vicious but not life threatening!) and she had a smile on her face. A lovely lady, who died far too soon of cancer. Anyway, enough for now. No blame. Be kind. Love everything.

Now, following what could be called The Invasion of the Body Snatchers" (😄) I shall depart. I have found a home on a Forum devoted to Mental Health. It has its Chill Out Lounge and Debating Areas, some quite lively, yet involving others who you have learned are facing traumatic experiences It is often demanding to participate. Some stories, the situations others find themselves in, often call forth more than I have to give. Yet in trying I find myself. Platitudes there are useless. There is a place for debate and discussion but eventually you have had enough. You need to reach deeper. Sorry if that sounds like a platitude itself. I have my own mental health issues. I remain a vulnerable person. At this moment this new Forum is my home. Thank you all. "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness"

😇

Nothing like referring to a book for all your answers. Just make sure you choose the right book and come up with the correct interpretation. 😊

Nothing like referring to a book for all your answers. Just make sure you choose the right book and come up with the correct interpretation. 😊

Hi there Mad one, I'd say it happens ROYALLY all the time. It's called the presumption of having and speaking the Truth oneself. 🙂

Regarding guarantees, or lack of them, maybe the confusion rests in the prevalence of what is called the Cartesian self-awareness, an "awareness" that assumes without thought that the empirical ego is the starting point of any advance into the perception/experience of "truth/reality". Fortunately, there will never be guarantees for any such.

I usually refrain from using the word "faith" as it comes for most (it seems) with baggage i.e. they equate it with "belief" (in whatever) I use trust. And as I have said, strangely it comes with no guarantees. Yet my own experience tells me that my Trust in Reality makes a difference. A big difference. Maybe that is simply because I am not very logical..........🙂 So much for logic (of course, there are different kinds of logic)

As I see it, this confuses faith and belief. For me they are complete opposites. Faith "lets go" while belief clings. Belief can be departmentalised. The most absurd beliefs can accompany the ability to function in any environment. Belief in God's love can even "live" alongside persecution of others. All part of a false self built up of accumulated beliefs, knowledge, self-justifications. "Using the faith card" to justify a belief is part of not seeing the difference between faith and belief. Faith for me is Trust. It permeates all. The ground from which all diversification issues, "empty" in itself. I do not seek to justify it.

Except for mad dogs and Englishmen perhaps. 😀

Hi Paul, I've found that it is the "not knowing" that is the truest guide. As is said in the Pure Land, the way of no-calculation where things are "made to become so of themselves". Or as it says in St Marks gospel:- "The earth brings forth fruit of herself". For me is a way of Trust, and strangely a trust that has no guarantees. Eckhart said:- "Nothing that knowledge can grasp or desire can want is God; where knowledge and desire end, there is darkness, and there God shines." So maybe you are becoming a Christian without knowing it. Life is full of surprises! Anyway, in keeping with the current threads and such, just a word on why in spite of not really liking labels at all, I prefer not to have the Christian label. It has been said often that in every particular can be found the universal. In fact James Joyce said it. A few scientists say it, when each single DNA cell can be used as a blueprint for the whole body. So as I see it, each of us, a "particular", is a "universal". Unique. Unrepeatable. Beyond price. The problem I see with many versions of Christianity is the claim that Jesus was a particular particular, that he was uniquely unique. Therefore "one way" and all the rest of it, the Inquisitions and bigotries that have haunted the faith. If we see this, then I would say we can begin to understand why the actual "message" of Jesus is secondary, why in fact no one can agree on exactly what it is or was. It is what is called The Eternal Word that is the heart, a "word" that speaks to each of us uniquely, as undividuals. Fortunately many people of faith are recognising now that "truth" - or whatever we wish to call it - circles Ultimate Reality ( "truth is 'one' sages call it by many names" ), it does not circle Christianity.

Hi John, I recently downloaded an audible version of Ulysses, quite cheap, and it is really good. A bit of Irish singing between chapters, and the various changes - between the dialogue of characters, stream of consciousness (internal monologue) and descriptive - are all spoken in various tones. The whole thing becomes easier to follow. (I await with eager anticipation the episode of Leopold Bloom breaking wind as an elegant lady passes by!) I have read Ulysses twice and the final "Yes!" of Molly Bloom after her long monologue at the end drew tears. Just like John Lennon when he climbed up a ladder at a Yoko Ono art exhibition, before he knew her, saw "yes" written on the ceiling and was enlivened. "If it had said 'no' I would have left" he said. Joyce once said, during the long battle to get the book past the censors, "If Ulysses is unfit to read then life is unfit to live." Oh yes, the hell sermon in "Portrait"......apparently it stayed with Joyce all his life, as well as the fear of thunder. As he wrote in Finnegans Wake:- bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonner- ronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk! 😀

Hi Paul, Dogen had a "breakthrough" himself when he was in training with others under a master in China. The guy beside him slumped and the master cried out:- "How dare you sleep when you are seeking to drop body and mind!" In the "eastern" ways and paths it all involves "emptiness", "beginner's mind" and suchlike, often dismissed as pure nihilism in some quarters.

All this is beginning to touch upon things being approached on another Forum. I spoke of it somewhere before, a forum devoted to Mental Health issues. Some tragic stories there and "mumbo jumbo" is of no help so I am strained to the limit. But being there is therapeutic for myself. But it does have a "Debating Chamber" where we can raise anything we like, and one guy (or gal, I'm not sure which) started a thread on how "Nihilism can save the planet". It has developed quite well, although I'm a little bit stymied by one guy who is strong on binary logic. Logic is not my strong point! But I was interested in the whole idea of "meaninglessness" as it is in nihilism and of how it relates to "eastern" ideas, particularly in zen and the thought of Dogen. I've long noticed that most things turn back upon themselves. Go far enough in one direction and you come back to where you started. I did read somewhere that given the bending of space, if we had a powerful enough telescope what we would see would be the back of our heads! Leaving that thought with you, I'd just say that according to Buddhism consciousness is the one thing that does not turn back upon itself. Which is suggestive. "All things are led by mind, created by mind" as the Dhammapada opens with. Well, enough waffle. Here is an excerpt from the book "Eihei Dogen:Mystical Realist" by Hee-Jin Kim:- To cast off the body-mind did not nullify historical and social existence so much as to put it into action so that it could be the self-creative and self-expressive embodiment of Buddha-nature. In being “cast off,” however, concrete human existence was fashioned in the mode of radical freedom—purposeless, goalless, objectless, and meaningless. Buddha-nature was not to be enfolded in, but was to unfold through, human activities and expressions. The meaning of existence was finally freed from and authenticated by its all-too-human conditions only if, and when, it lived co-eternally with ultimate meaninglessness.

Ah ha! Define "Amida"! That is where the trouble can start. 😎

Strangely I'm not really into "understanding", it is simply that I need Trust. Again perhaps strangely, my trust in a Reality of healing can (I find) live with the little verse of Rennyo:- Whether heading for the Pure Land Or heading for Hell All is in Amida's hands Namu-amida-butsu! It really is a letting go. Which opens up the next unfolding moment without preconditions, allowing it to be what it will be.

The sheer pace of this thread is putting my head in a spin 😀

Hi Nolose, to be honest, I'm more with those who distrust formulaes, systems, conclusions and definitions. I accept that definitions can assist and clarify debate but I sought Trust and found/find debate debilitating. Grace works in mysterious ways, often beyond our calculation. I trust in it. Thanks

Hi Paul, as I said before, seeking to explain how I see things, the "spirit of all truth" is not in the possession of any creed, but is simply part of the very fabric of Reality. As we are all unique, unrepeatable, human beings, whatever guidance we receive is unique to us. Although in my own words, the above is not some esoteric formulae, but simply that which many christians are recognising to be so, the Universal Christ. My own experience, which I must testify to, is that the "guidance" does not follow our own asking or seeking, but in a sense "finds us". Often we are guided in spite of our beliefs rather than because of them. It is all about being "surprised by joy". It is grace, gift. I bring fullness and satisfaction to the world, like rain that spreads its moisture everywhere. Eminent and lowly, superior and inferior, observers of precepts, violators of precepts, those fully endowed with proper demeanor, those not fully endowed, those of correct views, of erroneous views, of keen capacity, of dull capacity - I cause the Dharma rain to rain on all equally, never lax or neglectful. When all the various living beings hear my Law, they receive it according to their power, dwelling in their different environments..... ..The Law of the Buddhas is constantly of a single flavour, causing the many worlds to attain full satisfaction everywhere; by practicing gradually and stage by stage, all beings can gain the fruits of the way. (The Lotus Sutra, Parable of the Dharma Rain)

Hi Jimmy, I was objecting to your assertions and judgements of another, not ending debate. Thank you (I will leave when ready, and given my time now spent on another forum devoted to those with various mental health problems and finding such people more supportive and loving and caring than the average Christian.......well, I might well be ready fairly soon) All the best mate 🙂